


White Wolf in White Harbor

by grateful_bread, mywishingglass, WriterWolfe618



Series: White Wolf in White Harbor [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Show, F/F, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon grows up in White Harbor, Jonerys Endgame, M/M, Not for Fans of Starks, Not for Ned Stark Fans, Pro House Targaryen, R Plus L Equals J, Sailor Jon Snow, Targaryen Restoration, Three Sisters - Freeform, fostering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grateful_bread/pseuds/grateful_bread, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywishingglass/pseuds/mywishingglass, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWolfe618/pseuds/WriterWolfe618
Summary: Sent away in shame at a young age to grow up in White Harbor with the Manderlys, Jon Snow must learn to create a new life for himself on the open seas.I just want to go home…One day, I’ll prove to Father that I belong…Let them say Ned Stark had three sons… not two…I’ll be better, Father, I promise… I’ll be better than them all.Maybe then, I can come home…Maybe then, I can finally belong...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, here is the start of the Collab fic I was mentioning before. We have had a blast working on this world and story, and we hope you enjoy it too. Massive kudos and props to Mywishinglass and Grateful Bread, as well as everyone else on the Jonerys Discords that helped with this idea and turned it into a story.

NED (292 A.C.)

Ned Stark stared in shock at his wife, only barely able to calm his emotions, but the fear remained. She seemed to be serious in her threat towards telling her family about the boy, and if Lysa said anything to Jon, it would open up a slew of questions in King's Landing that he couldn't risk for the boy's sake. Wintertown wasn't too far away, and he was certain there was a family that would take the boy in. He could even visit him every few months, if he had the time. Ned sighed, though before he could say anything, Maester Luwin quietly stepped into the room and looked first at his wife,

"I'm sorry to bother you, my Lady, but Robb was asking for you."

The words had barely left his mouth when Catelyn sprung up from her seat and rushed out, leaving the room silent for a moment. Luwin looked outside the door and seemed to wait for a moment before nodding towards someone obscured from Ned's point of view. Within a few seconds, the usually loud and boisterous Wyman Manderly deftly made his way inside, taking a seat without even stopping to give a greeting.

"My lord Stark, if it would please you, I would like to give my account of the incident that occurred whilst you were on the hunt."

Ned sighed in frustration,

"My wife has been spending the past hour or so giving me a full detail of what happened."

"Forgive me, my lord, for my forwardness. But your wife was not even outside when Jon and Robb sparred. What she has heard has been second hand. I, on the other hand."

He wasn't sure what Wyman wanted, but Ned was surprised to hear that Catelyn hadn't even been in the courtyard. He gestured forward, allowing Wyman to continue speaking.

"It was a harmless spar my Lord, with the only odd thing happening was that it was Jon who won instead of Robb. I must say though, according to my Wylis and any other fighter, your bastard son was clearly holding back the other times. Robb's broken nose is but a result of youthful eagerness."

Ned leaned back and sighed in frustration.

"Be that as it may, Lord Manderly, this isn't the first time that Jon has been acting out. He embarrased his elder brother and attacked my ward after the fight was over."

"And the squid deserved it, what with all the things he was saying to your son about his mother."

"What did you say?"

Manderly motioned out towards the window.

"Your ward spent the entire sparring match sitting on his ass shouting out insults towards the boy's mother. Any son would have done what your's did in defense of his mother, even if he doesn't know who she was. Now regardless of that, what are your intentions with Jon?"

"He needs to learn his place. I'm sending him to live in Wintertown."

Ned looked up to see a near disgusted look on the face of the Lord of White Harbor. Wyman Manderly slowly shook his head as he frowned.

"My lord, if I may be honest with you, I doubt that that will do any good for your son, though you are correct in stating that he shouldn't stay in Winterfell, although not for the reasons you have stated. So long as you keep him here, your son will never flourish and grow like he could. Let me take him with me back to White Harbor. He can learn a trade there, make something of himself, perhaps even find love and settle down with a family."

That was too dangerous, thought Ned. Someone could recognize him and then he wouldn't be nearby.

"I promised his mother I would look after him."

Wyman reached over and put his meaty hand on Ned's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"And you have, my Lord, far more than what was required of you. But you need to start thinking about the promise to your son, instead of just the promise to his mother. He needs purpose, not punishment. He can get that in White Harbor, but you and I both know he will never find that here."

It felt like an eternity as Ned stared out the window towards the Wolfswood. It seemed that no matter what he did, he'd lose Lyanna's son, he'd lose his, the boy. He couldn't, he wouldn't, give the crown to him that Lyanna wanted for her son, but he could give him a happy life. The Manderly's were loyal and would protect the boy, and if anything happened, Ned could have men bring the boy to the Wall to protect him. He looked over to Lord Manderly and nodded once.

"When you leave tomorrow, the boy will go with you. I will tell him to start packing now."

* * *

 

JON

Jon Snow turned and gazed back at the tall stone walls of Winterfell.

On his shoulder was slung an old rugged packsack filled with the few personal effects he was allowed to take with him.

His steps were slow and heavy as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Pick up your feet, boy, we ain’t got all day!” A Manderly soldier barked behind him.

Jon tightened his hold on the leather strap of his pack as he bowed his head, his dark curls blown back by the wind as he rushed forward, his boots stained with damp mud and grass.  
In front of him were mounted soldiers in armor bearing the banners of House Manderly. The dark green merman sigil fluttering in the wind above the silver helmets of the Manderly men.

His dark grey eyes scanned the area cautiously, wondering if he would be given a horse or if he would be expected to walk all the way to White Harbor.

He heard the sound of hooves coming from behind him and Jon hurriedly stepped aside as a team of horses rushed past him bearing the large square carriage that bore the Lord of White Harbor.

The carriage stopped right by him and the door swung open revealing the hefty Manderly seated within.

“Jon Snow!”

Jon’s eyes widened.

“Can’t have the Warden of the North’s son trudging through the muck and snow, now, can we? You will be riding with me. Get in here, quickly now.” Lord Wyman Manderly called out, grinning as he gestured to Jon.

The bastard of Winterfell wasted no time in scuffling up the small steps and into the wooden carriage. He sat himself in the corner opposite Lord Manderly, his pack digging into his side. The door clicked shut behind him as the carriage lurched forward.

“Move out!” Jon heard a soldier cry out from behind the carriage.

Jon gazed out of the small window, watching the familiar towers and ramparts of Winterfell fade into the mist of the cold morning.

He felt a tightness in his chest grow as they moved further away from his home.

_“You’ll be leaving with Lord Manderly in the morning.”_

_“Father… I…”_

_“I will not hear another word from you, Jon. This is not a discussion. Pack your things and be ready to leave before dawn.”_

Jon felt his lower lip tremble as a tear escaped the corner of his eye. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to stop himself from letting any more loose.

_I have to be strong… I am not a small babe… Daeron Targaryen wouldn’t weep and neither should I…_

“Don’t tell me those are tears now.”

Jon brushed his eyes with his arm and shook his head as he murmured, “No, my lord.”

Wyman chuckled, “You shouldn’t be ashamed to shed a few tears every now and then. Even the hardiest of men can be moved given the right moment. But Lady Manderly would have my head if my new ward arrives in such a somber mood.”

The Lord of White Harbor peered closely at Ned Stark’s bastard son. The boy had more of the Stark look than the Warden of the North’s own true-born heir with his dark jet-black hair and grey eyes. But the boy sitting across him with his slumped shoulders and bowed head was a far cry from the ruthless little fighter that he was just the day before, relentlessly beating down his own half-brother in the courtyard of Winterfell.

“Do you know why you’ve been sent to White Harbor with me, Jon?” Lord Manderly questioned, his two chins jiggling underneath his white-blonde beard.

Jon hesitated for a moment before he responded with his fists tightening, “Because of what I did… to Robb… and Theon…”

Lord Manderly nodded as he leaned back on the cushioned seat, “I admit, that was a foolish thing to do. Shaming your father’s heir, bludgeoning your father’s ward. Ned Stark had half a mind to send you to live in Wintertown.”

Jon remained silent, his eyes downcast staring at his hands.

Wyman reached forward and patted the boy’s shoulder amicably, “Bah! Think nothing of it, now. Little boys lose their tempers all the time and sometimes other little boys get hurt because of it. You have a skill, and I, gods be good, intend to see that skill flourish.”

At this, Jon ventured to look up meeting Lord Manderly’s eyes, “Do you really think so, my Lord?”

“Think? No! I know it, boy!” Lord Manderly gave a healthy belly laugh, “You will be trained and taught everything there is to know about trades and transports and ships! Perhaps you may even get a chance to visit the Free Cities when you’re old enough. You have never lived until you have passed beneath the giant Titan of Braavos, feasted with the magisters of Pentos or tasted the sweet green nectar wine of Myr.”

This lifted the boy’s spirits for a moment, and there was a small spark in his grey eyes, “I’ve never seen the sea before, or even a ship… a real ship. Do you think I could get to go on one?”

An amused grin came on the merman lord’s face, “Jon, my boy, you could captain your own ship one day and sail across the entire world twice over if you wanted to.”

Finally, a smile on the boy’s lips.

“Me? A captain?” He asked.

“Aye and a rich one too, once you’ve mastered the art of the trade.” Lord Manderly winked.

Though Jon did not know what being on a ship was like, he remembered hearing stories of famed sea pirates and corsairs from Dorne, Tyrosh and Myr as well as reading historical sea expeditions such as that of Princess Nymeria who had taken ten thousand ships to conquer Dorne.

He imagined himself standing at the bow of the ship, the sound of the wind blowing in the sails and the crashing of the waves beneath his feet as he faced the red-orange horizon.

Then the excited grin on his lips faded as quickly as the daydream when his eyes caught sight of the fog-covered glens that sprawled the lands surrounding Winterfell.

“Do you think… I could ever return home, my lord?”

Lord Manderly felt a pang of sympathy for the young boy as he watched his little face, somber and crestfallen.

“Listen to me, Jon.” Wyman stated in a sincere tone, “Winterfell will always be your family’s home, that will most likely never change. But that’s not to say you can’t have more than one. Think of all the thousands of places in the world you can one day call home as well.”

The boy nodded, yet did not seem entirely placated. Lord Manderly tugged on his white beard and then, after a few moments of contemplation, he added, “After all, do you really want to be Jon Snow of Winterfell forever? Nothing wrong with that, mind. Having the Warden of the North, Lord Eddard Stark as a father is not something to be sneezed at. However… out there, on the open sea…”

Lord Manderly intentionally let his voice trail until he caught the boy’s attention once more.

“A young boy can be anything and anyone that he would want to be. You could be Jon Snow or perhaps you could be Jon the Valiant, Jon the Captain of the Fifteen Seas, Jon the Fearless Wanderer!”

“Or I could just be… Jon.” The boy said in a small voice.

Wyman hummed, “Aye. You can be that as well… or you could be more. Much, much more.”

Jon responded with a small smile as he considered what Lord Manderly had said.

_Maybe when I’m captain, no one would see me as just another lord’s bastard._

_No one would call me names like whore’s son or slut spawn._

_I could eat what I want, dress how I want and no one would tell me to shut up or stay down._

_I could fight and win and maybe then, Father might be proud of me._

Jon winced at the thought. But then, as the carriage moved further down the kingsroad, his feelings towards living at White Harbor turned more to a curious excitement rather than the foreboding fear that he had left Winterfell with.

He sat up straighter in his seat as he hugged his packsack close to his chest.

_I could just be Jon… or I could be something more..._

* * *

 

Over the next fortnight, Jon found himself in a familiar routine. Lord Manderly’s entourage would travel at a somewhat leisurely pace along the King’s Road through the Barrowlands. Slowly, the cold nights slept amongst pine needles transformed into warmer nights spent in the meadows. Winter had yet to make its mark on these regions south of Winterfell.  
Most days, he shared Lord Manderly’s carriage; wherein the portly Lord would regal Jon with stories of from the far east. Of the Free Cities, Braavos, the mysterious Faceless Men, and the cursed ruins of Old Valyria.

“Perhaps one day my boy, you will see the crumbling acropolis for yourself! Best to give it a wide berth though, it is said that the ghosts of the old Valyria will claim the very soul of any man foolish enough to enter that cursed place,” Lord Manderly said with a wink.

As the weeks began to pass, Jon found himself to ease up slowly. However, a melancholy mood would not escape his darkest thoughts.

He missed home terribly and had shed tears in the quiet of night, especially in the early parts of their journey. Would he ever see Robb again? Would he be allowed to? To apologize?

Eventually, the imposing thick walls of White Harbor came into view. Jon was awestruck. The scale and size was nothing like he had ever seen before. Growing up in the seat of the North, he had assumed that Winterfell and Wintertown would be the largest settlement he would ever gaze eyes on, how wrong he had been.

“D-do the walls ever end?” Jon spluttered.

Lord Manderly roared with laughter. “They certainly dwarf the walls of Winterfell don't they boy! Don’t ever let your father hear it, but Whiteharbor is the true gem in the North. There are few cities like it in the entire kingdom.”

Taking a swing from his wine flask he continued. “Once we’re properly fed and watered Jon Snow, I plan to introduce you to my cousin Ser Marlon. He’s the commander of the City Guard and will be overseeing your training. Just try to take it easy on the other recruits eh?” Wyman laughed at his own joke, much to Jon’s chagrin.

“I’ll need to control my temper during my stay, I cannot make the same mistake again. I will not This I do swear.”

“Brighten up lad!” A swift pat to his back from Lord Manderly’s meaty hand broke Jon’s concentration.

“We have a saying around these parts, ‘the tides bring change.’ You’ll be allowed to visit Winterfell again someday! But in the meantime there is much to learn, much to see! I promise you will not get bored during your stay in this city.”

Lord Manderly looked thoughtful. “Ser Davos Seaworth. Yes! Of course. I will request that you make your residence with his family. Hells, he has seven sons. It will be as if you never left!”

Jon felt his mood begin to brighten despite himself. Selfishly, one of his darkest fears regarding the incident with Robb and Theon was that he would be cursed by the Gods to never have friends. Jon looked forward to meeting this Davos Seaworth and his gaggle of sons.

The city gates eventually loomed above them. High bearing wooden gates of oak, reinforced with stout iron and adorned with motifs bearing visages of the sea. From sharks, to merpeople little was left to the imagination. Jon had only ever read of such beasts, to see actual illustrations of the beasts sent a shiver down his spine. White Harbor was truly very a whole new world.

As the procession moved past the city gates, Jon was struck by the vibrant colors and smells around him.

“This must be the Fishfoot Yard Robb went on about,” he mused.

Robb had told him everything about his trip with their Father to White Harbor of course. Jon felt a pang of sadness, yet another excursion he had been forbidden from, no doubt at Lady Cateyln’s bequest.

Oh but what a joy it was to see now.

The Yard was paved by glistening, smooth cobblestone almost as if the sea itself formed a fine layer upon the very rock itself. In the middle of the Yard, a towering statue watched over the vendors and market goers. It was carved in the shape of a merman, from stones that appeared as if they were drug from the depths of the bay, blackened and mossy. Multi-colored stars adorned its tail.

Jon gasped. “Those must be starfish!”

Wyman let out another chuckle, “Of all the fantastic paintings and carvings we’ve passed and starfish of all things catch your eye?”

He felt his ears turn pink. “My sister, Arya, always wanted to see one. She never believed Robb when he told us their were animals shaped like stars in the ocean of all places.”

“By the time you’re full grown lad, you’ll have many more interesting creatures to tell that sister of yours about. You have my word.”

Eventually after progressing up steep streets of whitewashed cobblestone, the carriage finally came to a halt.

Lord Manderly hopped from the carriage with a speed that should have been nigh impossible for the portly, aging man.

“Ah it is good to be home at last! Come Jon Snow, may I present to you the seat of House Manderly; New Castle in all her glory!”

Glory indeed. The Seat of House Manderly stood as mighty pinnacle, and could be seen from any vantage within the city walls. Built from the same thick white rock that the city’s walls were hewn from, the castle stood in stark contrast to the often stormy grey skies surrounding the adjacent countryside. A hope in the darkness, especially to weary, seas bound sailors making port in the harbor below.

Awestruck, Jon moved to catch up with Lord Manderly as they passed the castle guard. Fearsome guards, adorned with blue-green woolen cloaks that splayed from their plate armor bearing the crest of House Manderly; a Merman bearing a trident. Indeed, the guards themselves bore silver trident, fearsome weapons standing approximately eight feet long, the tips seemed to be made of sharpened seashells.

Moving into the castle proper, Jon continued to feel more and more overwhelmed by the moment. He had been given another chance, a chance to redeem his honor and wipe away the shame he had brought the Stark name. Failure was not an option.

Finally they arrived at the entrance to what Jon assumed to be the Merman’s Court, the Great Hall of Newcastle.

“A feast has been prepared to welcome us home lad, try and enjoy yourself! And by the seven stop looking so glum, it doesn’t suit you. Come, come! Their is ale to drink, fish to eat! This will be a night to remember!”

Nervously Jon followed at his heels through the great carved doors.

Words could not describe the sight he was greeted with.

Robb had told Jon many stories about White Harbor and the Merman's Court, nothing could compare to seeing it in real life. The Hall was lined with long tables that appeared to be made of ocean driftwood. They were arranged with ornate silver platters of seafood bearing exotic aromas Jon had never even dreamt of smelling.

The carvings and paintings adorning the floor and walls made him feel as if the feast was being held at the bottom of the Narrow Sea. Calming, yet menacing all at the same time. Fearsome sharks and mer-people could be seen no matter where one looked. The hall itself seemed to be lit by a dim green light.

“Not unlike sunlight breaking through the surface of water,” Jon thought to himself.

Perhaps this would indeed be a night to remember.

* * *

 

The sounds of the incoming feast nearly deafened Jon as he sat awkward and almost alone at the table. A few others sat near him, but were busy eating or speaking to one another. Jon had never seen so much food in his whole life, and so many different types of food. The fact that the food was freely given to him, and he didn’t have to beg for it from the kitchens also stunned him. In fact, everything about being invited to the feast had stunned him. True, he was not sitting next to the Lord Manderly and his family, but he wasn’t shunned outside or barely allowed next to the servants. He sat among minor lords and merchants, and none looked twice at him. That all changed when a young boy plopped down on the bench next to him, pushing his light brown hair out of his face and extending his hand towards Jon, saying in a cheerful tone,

“You must be Jon! I’m Maric Seaworth, but you can call me Ric. Everyone does around here, seeing as Ric sounds like Rickard, which is a Stark name. But of course you’d know that, he’s your grandfather after all. Glad to see you made it to White Harbor, my mother and father have been preparing your room. Well it was my room, and Mathos’, but since he got older he gets a room by himself, so I guess we will have to share, but that’s alright, is that alright? Father said that since we’re of close age, I think I’m older though, not that it matters really, I mean to Allard and Dale it matters, but they’re like really old, but anyway I really hope we get to be friends. Devan is too young, and really busy with his lessons, and Steffon is still almost a baby, with Stannis being an actual baby. So I really hope you and I will be friends, so do you want to be my friend, please?”

Jon sat in shock for a few moments, trying to process all the words he had heard before he found himself slowly nodding and smiling back. Maric, or Ric apparently, quickly began to shovel food onto his plate and dug in, Jon quickly following suit. He wasn’t sure if the feast was ending, or he’d be kicked out, so he decided to make the most of it. Ric began to talk with seafood still in his mouth, but Jon was sort of able to understand him.

“White Harbor is a great place, I’m sure you’ll love it. We’ve been here for almost four years ever since the Ironborn rebellion. My father used to serve under Lord Stannis, who my baby brother is named after, and when the rebellion was over, your father and Lord Manderly needed help with repairing their fleet. Lord Stannis pointed to my father and he came here to help out. He’s been really helpful, mainly because of his days as a smuggler and pirate. Don’t worry he’s not a pirate anymore, Lord Stannis took his fingers for his crimes after he helped him at Storm’s End during the Rebellion. Not the Ironborn Rebellion, but King Robert’s rebellion. My father snuck through the Redwyne fleet and brought food to the people of Storm’s End, though it was mainly onions, that’s why he’s called the Onion Knight and our sigil has onions on it. Lord Stannis did knight him and offer him lands in the Stormlands though.”

As Maric took a breath, Jon quickly cut in.

“If Stannis made your father a knight and gave him lands, why did he leave for here?”

Maric looked around the large hall for a second, before sliding closer to Jon, whispering in his ear,

"Well, my father says that it was because he realized we would have a better life in White Harbor, but I heard that it was something else. Apparently this lady from Essos, Melanie, Melinda, Melisandre, that was her name, she showed up on Dragonstone. She started preaching about some other faith, and Lady Selyse started listening. I know the North follows the Old Gods, and they're cool, but we follow the Seven, like the Manderlys, though we totally respect the Old Gods. In fact there's a Godswood in the Wolf's Den, which used to be a castle built by King Jon Stark, is that who you're named after? Anyway, Melisandre started getting really adamant on people following her faith, and with Lady Baratheon on her side, people were starting to change. So my mother saw this, grabbed our stuff, and went to White Harbor, and about a few months later, we became House Seaworth of White Harbor."

A little bit of time passed as the two finished eating and continued to talk. For a time, Jon was able to pretend that he was back in Winterfell talking with Robb again, before Theon came, before the spar. Although Maric talked far more than anyone he ever knew. By the time Jon had finished his tankard of water, Maric had used more words towards him than his father had ever spoken to him, even when Lady Stark wasn't around. It was nice having someone his age that didn't seem to care who he was, what he was. In fact, no one around seemed to care that a bastard was in their midst. The times he was allowed in the back of the Hall during meals, even most of the servants would shun him and leave the table he sat in, which made him easy to see, and even easier for Lady Stark to spot and kick out when his father wasn't around. It was nice, and Jon found himself relaxing a bit when suddenly a flash of green appeared in front of him. He realized that the green color gave way to the shape of a person, a young girl around his age to be exact, with a bright green dress and even brighter green hair. She stuck out her hand and exclaimed,

"You must be Grandfather's new ward, I'm Wylla, what's your name? It's Jon right? Anyway what do you think of my hair?"

Jon swallowed his food, his eyes wide with confusion as he glanced back at the snickering Maric.

"It's, it's, very bright, my Lady?"

Wylla's smile turned even brighter than her hair as she spun around to an older girl, walking towards them, her brown hair braided to the side.

"See Wynie? Jon likes my hair."

The girl, who seemed to be much older than any of them, sighed in mock frustration.

"And what does Grandfather and father think of your hair, Wylla? Were they pleased you waited till after they left before you dyed it?"

Wylla shrugged.

"The only way they can change it is if they cut my hair off and let it all grow back, eventually. So what can they do?"

Jon watched as the older sister, and he could see that now that their faces were close to each other, simply rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. It reminded him a bit of Sansa and Arya, though Sansa would probably have run screaming off to Lady Stark by then. Wynafryd seemed to be much calmer and more reserved. As she turned to face Jon however, her face flickered into a small frown, before she put on a blank expression.

"My grandfather would like to see you now, Jon. He has some people he would like you to meet."

Walking through the crowds of people with Wynafryd Manderly in front of him, and Wylla Manderly on his right with Maric on his left, drew far more attention to Jon than he would have liked. It seemed like everyone was watching him as the four made their way up the hall to the main table, where mountains of seafood sat even higher than Jon was tall. In the center of the table was the large Lord Wyman, laughing boisterously at some joke someone next to him just made. He peered over and smiled at him as he drew near, momentarily reminding him of the man Jon had talked to in the carriage,

"There he is, tell me young Jon, what do you think of the dinner so far? Is this your first time having fish?"

Jon nodded before quietly responding,

"It's very different from the bread and soup I usually have. It's really nice, and I thank you Lord Manderly."

Jon's sharp eyes noticed two women, one of them looking a lot like Wylla and Wynafryd, and the other like Maric exchange a sharp look with each other before the one who looked like Maric leaned forward,

"Well I hope you like fish, Jon, because there is plenty of it here in White Harbor. We make a nice stew that my sons and husband love to eat after a day's hard work. A growing boy like you should have plenty of food here."

Lord Wyman raised his goblet in salute, spilling not a single drop though.

"Here here, Lady Seaworth. Although we shan't give the boy too much food, lest my cousin throw a fit at fattening his best prospect at a warrior out the door. Marlon, come here! You as well, Ser Davos. Meet Jon, the son of Ned Stark, and White Harbor's new ward."

Ignoring the butterflies at being addressed for once as Ned Stark's son, Jon looked up and peered at the two men standing above him. Ser Marlon was easily a head and a half taller than Ser Davos, with his silvered plate armor and greying beard, he looked the very image of a knight from the stories he loved to read. Ser Davos looked like a simple man, with a friendly expression on his face as he reached out his hand for Jon to shake. Jon noticed the lack of fingers, but said nothing.

"Welcome to White Harbor lad, you'll be staying with us for the foreseeable future, though I am sure my Maric has told you plenty about that. I'll be teaching you the ropes of learning to live on, and eventually sail your own ship. We are all glad you're here."

Ser Marlon stepped forward as well, his handshake firm and strong.

"According to Wylis you have some skill with a blade. I intend to see that skill grow. If the sailing the sea is not the calling for you, then perhaps defending the Harbor or the ships could be your calling. Who knows, perhaps with enough practice, you might find yourself knighted, if you prove yourself honorable and worthy."

Lord Wyman interrupted before Jon could respond,

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, now shall we? Tonight is a time for feasting and celebration, though don't eat too much, a phrase I never seem to follow. You're to start your teachings with Ser Davos at the docks bright and early in the morning, then up to the barracks with Cousin Marlon during the afternoons, and finally finishing your evenings with lessons with Maester Theomore here. Now that I think of it, I daresay you might even be so busy these next few years that you might even forget that Winterfell even exists! Off you go now lad, enjoy the feast."

* * *

 

Later that night, Jon rested his head on his folded arms as he leaned against the open window sill beside his bed, his knees on his soft mattress. The sound of Maric’s loud snores filled the room as Jon smiled while shaking his head.

He never thought his new friend would ever stop talking, it seemed Maric had enough energy to last the entire night, perhaps even two. Yet, barely after saying good night to Jon, it didn’t take long for the young Seaworth to fall fast asleep.

Looking up at the clear night sky, the full moon shone brightly over the whitewashed stone houses topped with dark grey steeply-pitched roofs and the few ships that docked in the harbor. Jon could hear the distant murmurs of laughter and chatter from a group of men idling by the docks as well as the fluttering of flags and loose sails. But the sound that he relished the most was the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the foot of the stone walls and steep rocky cliffs that bordered the port city. He had never realized how soothing it was to simply listen to the roar of the sea as he took a deep breath of the salty air.

There was a soft knock on the door and Jon turned just as the door creaked open.

“Still awake, I see.” There was a gentle smile underneath Ser Davos’ coarse dark beard streaked with a touch of grey as he peeked inside the room, “After all that excitement at the feast?”

Jon answered almost bashfully, “I’ve never seen the sea before. Now that I have, I can’t stop looking at it.”

“Aye. The sea can be quite a beauty especially on a night like this. But when you’re out there in the middle of a fierce storm, you might have a very different opinion about her.” Ser Davos stated as he stepped inside the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Jon simply smiled as he looked back out, “I think it would be quite an adventure, sailing out into a storm.”

Ser Davos chuckled, “Wait till we actually do, then you try saying that again.”

The sound of a loud grunt and snort from Maric was quickly followed by hushed laughter from Jon and the Onion Knight.

“I like him… a lot, and your other sons too. Dale, Allard, Devan, Mathos, Stannis… even Steffan, though he’s still a little babe. And Lady Seaworth, she’s been most kind to me since I arrived.” Jon said, surprised he had remembered all their names despite only meeting them briefly just moments ago. But then Maric had been yammering on about his entire family the whole night, perhaps it was not that much of a surprise after all.

“I believe they like you back. Maric, most especially. He seems very taken with you, but that’s how he’s always been. His mouth only stops to close once he’s in bed or when he’s stuffing it with food.”

Another loud snore caused Davos to shake his head, “Spoke too soon.”

The smile on Jon’s face dissipated slightly. Though he had grown up with his half-siblings, none of them had ever treated him with the same openness and joviality that Maric had, not even Robb. Bran and Arya had only just started to learn how to talk, Sansa usually played with the other girls while Robb and Theon…

Jon stopped mid-thought. Remembering the reason why he had left Winterfell brought a sharp pain in his chest.

Davos noticed the change in the young boy’s face as he sat on the side of his bed.

“Alright there, Jon? Seemed like you went off somewhere else just now.” He stated with concern.

Jon dropped his gaze, “Things are so...different here than it was back in Winterfell.”

Davos hummed under his breath and nodded with understanding, “I can see how hard it must be, leaving home and finding yourself in a whole new world. But, as every sailor knows, the harbor is the safest place for any ship, but lying idle at port is not what ships are made for.”

The Onion Knight gave Jon a sympathetic smile, “And you, young Jon, seem to be someone made for sailing out into storms.”

The boy returned his smile, though it did not reach his dark grey eyes.

Davos placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I know you miss your home and your family, Jon, and I am sure they miss you as well. But the Manderlys are good, decent and hardworking folk, plus you got the Seaworths looking out for you as well.”

Ser Davos gave Jon a wink with the last line.

“Thank you… Ser Davos.” He said.

The knight patted the boy’s back, “Now, off to bed with you. I can’t guarantee you’ll catch a wink with this bear of a boy beside you. But we do have an early start tomorrow and I want you to get as much rest as you can before then.”

“Aye. I will.” Jon nodded.

“That’s a lad.” Ser Davos grinned as he stood on his feet.

Jon crawled underneath his covers, turning on his side to see Ser Davos blowing out the candles that were atop the table next to Maric’s bed.

“Sleep well, Jon.”

The door closed with a soft click and Jon sighed as he lay on his back. As he turned his head towards the window, he could make out the white stars dotting the night sky.

Jon thought about what Ser Davos had told him about being someone made for sailing into storms. Ever since he could remember, he had always seemed to get into one trouble after another. Sometimes of his own accord, sometimes as a scapegoat for someone else.

The lull of the crashing waves and the occasional sea breeze that whiffed inside the room, caused Jon’s eyes to grow heavy.

Just before he finally succumbed to sleep, his last thoughts were on the stony granite hallways of the Winterfell stronghold, the hot springs that lay beneath the castle, the eerie godswood with the blood-red weirwood in the centre of the grove. He could smell the savory aroma of roast venison from the kitchens and hear the laughter of his half-siblings in the courtyard. He pictured his lord father standing on the balcony that overlooked the gates, his grim face breaking into a rare smile.

Despite everything that he had seen and heard, his heart ached for the familiarity of Winterfell and his family.

_I just want to go home…_  
_One day, I’ll prove to Father that I belong…_  
_Let them say Ned Stark had three sons… not two…_  
_I’ll be better, Father, I promise… I’ll be better than them all._  
_Maybe then, I can come home…_  
_Maybe then, I can finally belong..._

* * *

 

(8-9 years later)

Jon Snow turned and gazed back at the tall stone walls of Winterfell.

He brought his dark brown colt to a halt as he stared up at the ramparts, a heated glare on his brow as he scowled at the ancient stronghold he once called home. His steel-grey eyes watched as the grey direwolf on the Stark banners rustled in the wind. He felt a bitter taste of bile in his mouth and he spat it out on the ground vehemently, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A dark and heavy cloak was wrapped around his shoulders concealing the boiled leather armor he wore underneath. In his right arm was cradled the snow-white direwolf pup he had claimed for his own. He looked down at the pup who blinked up at him with its dark red eyes as it gave a toothy yawn. Carefully, Jon stowed away his small pup in the satchel he had fastened securely to his saddle, ensuring the buckles were tightened into place.

When he finished, he gathered his horse’s reins in his hand. His jaw hardened as his mind returned to the conversation he had had with his father in the crypts only moments ago.

_“You can keep your fucking honor, your fucking secrets and your fucking House. I have no use for any of them... or for you!”_

His blood boiled at the memory and a snarl came upon his lips. The sound of hooves galloping behind him drew his attention and interrupted his thoughts.

“Jon!”

He turned to see Maric on his gray steed making his way towards him. His Seaworth companion bleary-eyed and grumpy.

“What in the Seven Hells is going on? It’s the middle of the fucking night! You would think that maybe we’d have time to do all this in the morning, you didn’t even give me a chance to get in a decent amount of sleep. I thought you’d wanna stay for a day or two considering it’s been years since you last been here and what would the Starks say if --”

“Fuck the Starks!” Jon snapped in cold, bitter rage, “I pray to the old gods and the new that I never return to this godforsaken place ever again if I can help it! May the Others take it and burn it to the fucking ground for all I care!”

Jon pulled on the reins and spurred his horse forward with his heels.

For once, Maric was too stunned to speak, taken aback with the ferocity of Jon’s response. Then shaking his head, he called wearily after his captain.

“Bloody hells, Jon, wait for me!”

As Jon rode hard into the night, he hoped to put as much distance as he could between himself and Winterfell. To him, that place was nothing more than a dreary, crumbling castle haunted with memories that brought more hurt and pain than joy.

The image of his father in his mind only made him want to strangle something, so he kept his head down as the cold wind whipped through his dark curls, his direwolf pup whimpering in his satchel while his first mate, Maric, followed closely behind him.

_My real family… my ship, my crew… they’re all waiting for me at White Harbor._

The sea was calling to him and Jon was eager to answer.

_Winterfell isn’t home… neither is Westeros…_  
_My real home is out there, somewhere, on the wide open sea._  
_In a new world waiting to be discovered._

Breathing hard, his hand automatically pulled at the string around his neck, reaching for the pearl ring that dangled at the end. As his fingers ran over the ring, Jon finally made up his mind as to what it was that he wanted to do.

He would take his ship and sail across the entire world, and perhaps someday, he would happen upon that little violet- eyed girl once again and give her back her ring, just like he promised himself he would.

 _Because, unlike Ned Stark,_ Jon Snow thought, _when I make a promise, I intend on keeping it._


	2. Three Sisters, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sneak Peak around 8 years into the future of Jon's life in White Harbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, this story is back sort of. We are all busy working on real life and other stories, but I was recently struck by inspiration to write this storyline, and the words kept flowing out. I hope you enjoy, even if you are confused, but I have answers right below.
> 
> The Three Sisters storyline is a story that will probably cause quite a few questions. It is a three part look into the future of this story, set a few months before the epilogue of chapter 1 where Jon stormed away from Winterfell, swearing to never set foot in there again. How Jon got here will be mentioned in Part 2 and Part 3, but Will Be Explained in greater detail once we get to that point in the story. Once this specific storyline is completed, we will travel back to when Jon is 11 and about to meet the silver haired girl in Essos. But for now, enjoy the future.

Sisterton, 297 AC

Jon was finding it easier to ignore the familiar stabs of shame as he felt his seed burst into the woman beneath him, barely able to collect himself enough to slip out and fall breathless onto the bed next to her. For once, the pure elation of sex dulled the usual feelings the septon at White Harbor had tried to hammer into his mind. He wondered if the man cared that he wasn't at the sept anymore, even though he had only visited there with Maric and Wylla a few times. It was the thought of the last time he had seen his former friends that crumbled through his defenses, and for the first time since he was sent away from Winterfell, shame filled his body and soul. But he wasn't in Winterfell anymore, nor was he in White Harbor. He had not been home for nearly half a year, and had not seen the seat of House Stark in almost eight. This was the Three Sisters, a trio of islands filled with shame and avarice. It didn't matter who he was or what he did here. So his shame was once more buried beneath the walls of his heart as he once more buried his cock into the whore lying next to him, her belly just starting to show his bastard growing inside her.

A few minutes later found him almost dressed, his head pounding from all of the drinks last night, scrambling to grab his thrown about clothes in the small room. Cora was simply lounging about on their bed, just starting to catch her breath as she began to speak,

"By the Seven, how does a boy of six and ten know how to do all that?"

Jon's reply was gruff but soft.

"I spent a week or so in a brothel in Lys about a little over a year and a half ago."

"How did you end up there?"

Jon pulled his shirt over his shoulders and sat down on the nearby chair. He was surprised he hadn't told her this story, though to be honest he spent most of his drinking down at the tavern or fucking her or another whore instead of talking. His life before he ran away to the Sisters was not something he liked to speak of.

"I lost a game of cards."

Cora scoffed,

"You seem to have very interesting luck with card games. You lose a game and spend a week in a brothel. You win a game and win a ship from that Lysene pirate."

"Would you believe me if I told you that my opponent was the same man in both games?" said Jon to Cora's surprised face, though that quickly changed to a frown as he continued speaking, "Speaking of the Seven, that traveling Septon is on Longsister right now. It wouldn't even take us a day or two to get to him, and I have some coin ..."

"Jon, we've talked about this. I'm not going to marry you."

"You're carrying my child. I swore I would never have a bastard."

Cora smiled softly and pulled his hand into hers.

"This is the Three Sisters, Jon. No one cares about your last name or what side of the bed you were born on. Hells, no one cares about your first name either normally. Besides, what am I supposed to do if I marry you. I can't exactly keep working my usual job at the Belly if I'm a married woman."

"I'd care for you, and the babe."

"How? You barely earn enough to pay off your rent and bar tab when you're actually sober enough to work on the docks, or sing at night. Your ship is still in dry dock, and won't be finished with repairs for another month or so."

Jon stood up and began pacing the room.

"I'm a fucking knight, I can find work as a sworn shield of Lord Sunderland or Borrell even. Or I can take up that Essosi magister's offer and work for him in Pentos."

Cora stood up and walked over to him, turning his face to meet hers. Her voice was strong and solid.

"If you really want to help me and your child, you'll give in to Lord Sunderland's demands and marry his daughter like he's asked of you last month. You can become a knight in his household, squire some of his younger sons, even get your ship filled with a crew. The gold you'll get will be more than enough to care for our child, and you can bring him on your trading voyages. If the babe is a girl you can bring her up to the castle to be a handmaiden, instead of living here with me."

Jon gave a low and bitter laugh,

"So have a bastard with someone I care for, and marry another for duty?"

"I am a whore that you paid for who forgot to bribe the Maester for some moon tea a few months ago. We are not some love story that you like to sing about downstairs. You're not a Targaryen, so you can't marry us both, and since you won't take me to White Harbor."

"I can't go back there, I won't."

Cora nodded and finished getting dressed in silence before she made her way to the door. She turned around and softly said,

"If you're sober enough to work down at the docks today, I heard from Mandy that Lord Sunderland was visiting them this morning. It would be a good time to talk to him there. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do in the kitchens."

With that she walked away, leaving Jon alone in the room scowling. He ignored the longsword and trident he had stolen from White Harbor's armory the day he fled the city, opting to take the shorter sword and dagger he was given by Salladhor. This was the Three Sisters, and it had taken him a few scars in his early months here to learn that fights were quick and dirty here, and one had to do whatever it took to survive. Indeed, before Jon even made it to the Gallows Gate, two thieves had tried their luck with him. The first recognized Jon from his fights in the fighting pits at the docks, and was quick to scramble away. The second barely managed to scramble away, a gash across his face and a stab to his belly likely spelling his death in some back alley by the end of the day. He found Lord Tristan Sunderland at the docks, speaking to the dock master, though the man was quickly pushed to the side when the Lord of the Three Sisters caught sight of him,

"Ser Jon, what a pleasure to see you up and about this early in the morning. Please, I must insist you break your fast with me at the castle, where we can finish our conversation from last month."

"Actually my Lord, I've come here to tell you that I would be honored to accept your daughter Marla's hand in marriage, if that offer is still on the table."

A small scowl appeared on the Lord's face as he looked back towards the open sea, before sighing and briskly walking along the path up to Breakwater Castle. Jon had no choice but to follow along with him. Lord Tristan's voice was still jolly though, as it usually was.

"If only you had come to this decision last night, for I have just seen my Marla and her three eldest brothers to Gulltown for the next month or so, with intentions of her finding a husband there due to your lack of an answer this past month. Never the matter, I shall write to her immediately and tell her to stave off those greedy Valemen. No doubt she might even charter a ship to get back even sooner, you're the only one she's talked about ever since you fucked each other during that festival. Don't give me that look, I'm not going to hang you, this is the Sisters for the Seven's sake. I'm just glad you're a knight and a Stark bastard instead of that other pirate from Littlesister. Believe me, if I knew that you were the one she was with, I'd have thrown all the castle's moon tea into the ocean to trap you like that whore down at the Belly did. My condolences for the loss of your babe, I commend you for trying to do your best with them."

"Cora and the babe are well, they are part of the reason I am here."

With that Lord Sunderland stopped abruptly and glared over at Jon, who met his gaze without flinching. Lord Tristan's voice was cold and cruel, reminding him of his distant memories of Lady Stark.

"If you dare think that I will allow you to raise some whore's bastard in my castle over my own blood, instead of my own grandchildren,"

Jon was quick to reach out a hand, grasping the Lord's arm in a reassuring manner.

"It is not like that at all, my Lord. I simply wish to ensure that my child is cared for and is given a better life than the squalor of a whorehouse. A serving boy or girl in the castle, perhaps a dockhand like I was or a handmaiden of Lady Sunderland. That's all I ask, a better life, a life where opportunity is obtainable."

Lord Sunderland was quiet for a long time as the two stared at each other. Jon kept his gaze strong and true, learning the benefits of doing so two years ago when he helped Lord Wendell Manderly negotiate that deal with Prince Doran. Eventually Lord Tristan sighed and nodded, his voice cheerful once more, the change confusing Jon as always.

"Well I can't fault a father trying to do what's best for their children, after all I am doing the same. As long as you give me your word that you won't let your bastard try to take from my Marla's children, I'll make sure they and the mother are taken care of. In return, you will take both my younger sons Tristan and Steffon as your squires right away."

Instantly the name Steffon brought back the memories of the dark storm, the surge of seawater, and the screams of the little boy, but he quickly shook it off, and extended his hand out for Lord Tristan to shake with his greedy and cold eyes smiling at him jovially. The next few weeks passed by in a blur as he took on the momentous task of attempting to train the two younger boys into something resembling of a warrior like Ser Marlon had done for him, as well as turn away from the bottle that had become his only friend these past few months here on the Sisters. Both tasks seemed equally impossible, and were harder to accomplish than anything else had done, but he managed to do so barely. As sobriety was obtained, his old dreams of the violet eyed girl he had met all those years ago returned to him, and he found himself gripping the ring she had dropped that day in the palm of his hand instead of grasping the handle of a cup of ale. Everything seemed to be going better than it had before, at least until the visitor from White Harbor showed up outside the Belly.

Jon had just spent the morning in bed with the very pregnant Cora, enjoying the last week of simplicity before Marla arrived back from Gulltown, when he stepped out of the tavern to see none other than Davos Seaworth glaring at him across the street. He walked over to face him, standing in the mud and letting the rain fall down on his face, hoping it hid his tears. Davos' voice was low, nearly a growl.

"Do you know that half of White Harbor is out looking for you these past few months? Lord Manderly was about to send a raven to your father and the King, he's that fucking worried about you."

"How'd you find me?"

"Salladhor Saan finally made it up to White Harbor and told an interesting tale of a young knight on the Three Sisters who finally won that ship from him that the boy had wanted for almost two years."

Jon nodded and looked around for a moment, not seeing anyone nearby save for a passed out drunk, or perhaps it was a corpse. He sighed and straightened his shoulders, looking the man who had raised him more that Lord Stark ever had straight in the eye. His voice threatened to break and crack, but he mastered it in time.

"Are you here to kill me Davos?"

A look of pain and anguish shot through the older man's face, with a flash of anger as well as he replied,

"Why in the name of the Seven do you think I am here to do that Jon?"

This time Jon's voice broke and cracked, and he had to look away from Davos, the shame and guilt he had been running from finally returning and conquering his mind as body as he whispered out in a choked sob,

"Because I killed your son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The future isn't looking to good for Jon is it? This storyline does explore Jon's (current) darkest hours, so be prepared. Inspiration is still going, so you might get Part 2 and 3 sooner than you think, but comments always help and are appreciated.
> 
> Sneak Peak:  
> "I do know one thing for certain, mi'lord. If this was your doing, pray that we don't tell anyone of your involvement, or else the Three Sisters will suffer the wrath of Lord Stark, Lord Manderly, and even King Robert like never before. So if I were you, I'd let my son go, now."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, let us know in the comments below. As a reminder, the comments section of this fic is not the place to discuss the show. Also as a preemptive answer, We Are All Still Continuing on our Individual Fics as Well, so don't freak out and think we're abandoning those, because we're not.


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